


live with me in this sin forever

by cjones7



Series: Riverdale Song Fics [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: (but very not in a fluffy way), (like that doesn't mean abuse so much as helping your girlfriend kill people is bad), Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Bad Parent Alice Cooper (Archie Comics), Body Horror (ish), Dark Betty Cooper, Dark Jughead Jones, F/M, Horror, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Murder, Murder Kink, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, fairytale, murder couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjones7/pseuds/cjones7
Summary: There is a story, about a perfect girl next door who falls in love with the gang leader’s son made good and goes on to have a picture perfect white-picket fence life, marriage and babies, your shining small town fairytale. This is not that story.
Relationships: Alice Cooper/Hal Cooper, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Series: Riverdale Song Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566859
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	live with me in this sin forever

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Amigo The Devil's "Hell And You." All aboard the murder Betty train, next stop, Jughead being weirdly turned on by the idea of her killing him. Choo Choo.

There is a story, about a perfect girl next door who falls in love with the gang leader’s son made good and goes on to have a picture perfect white-picket fence life, marriage and babies, your shining small town fairytale. This is not that story.

There is a story, about a perfect girl next door, so soft-good and shining-nice, seduced into sin and strife by a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, who suffered for it and died for it. A tragedy, a tragedy, but a good one, a clean one, a familiar dance to a familiar song. This is not that story either.

Instead, this is a story of a monster wearing the skin of a perfect girl beloved of all, and what happens when that skin chafes, and what happens when a good hearted boy on the edge of a grand darkness sees a monster in it’s full flesh. But perhaps that is not the best beginning. Perhaps we start as all long told tales have started.

Once upon a time, there was a woman who married a monster in order to assure she and her children could live a comfortable life. Do not judge her, she has only made a choice women have made for as long as time has memory. The woman had the blood of monsters running through her veins herself. She never expected anything to come out of this, but these things happen, when you marry in masks. 

The woman had two daughters, and we all know how that goes, in stories such as these. The youngest is the special one, as always, always. The youngest is a monster. And while the woman would deny it later, if she could, to any nosy reporter on her doorstep, she knew she had birthed a monster. And so she took her squirming monster daughter and sewed her a suit of perfect rosy skin, wove her a head of gleaming golden hair, and wrote a list of rules to keep her skin of perfection in pristine shape, always, always, always. 

And this worked, for a time. The girl’s monster-father nearly broke the skin many times when she was a child, but her mother patched it, always. The patching was painful, and some would term it cruel, the girl may term it cruel, but her mother reasoned it was necessary for keeping her daughter intact, keeping her whole, keeping her perfect. 

What the mother forgot to account for, was that no creature keeps the skin they were born with. Even humans shed our skins, even if that shedding is invisible. It was only a matter of time before her careful creation split at the seams, before it shredded entirely.

Meanwhile, across town, a prince was born. The prince had no kingdom, and was not paid much attention. The prince was not born a monster, but he lived among them, and learned many of their ways, in silent contemplation. In another story, he could have been the hero that slays the monster. This is not that story.

In this story, the monster’s skin begins to itch. Her mother forbids she join the cheer team and itch. Her mother forbids she talks to boys and itch. Her mother slaps her across the face when she mentions birth control and itch itch itch. Her monster-father watches and dormant memories inside her stir.

In this story, she itches and itches and itches so much she dons her wig and crosses town with no real intentions. In this story, a man comes up to her at a bar she should not have gotten into. In this story, the man is found beaten to death in an alley the day the monster started her sophomore year. And the prince, well. The prince loves a mystery. 

And so the prince fancies himself cat, and the monster his mouse. Every week a body for him, a new present from this faceless monster, a clue in a game he thinks he is destined to win. Every week, the prince and monster, he without his crown and she in her skin of perfection, work on stories about football and cafeteria food in the school newspaper together, unaware. 

But every game must end, every prince must get lucky, every monster unlucky. And the prince finds his monster, eyes shining, covered in a stranger’s blood, perfection set aside and shed as the empty sheath it is, standing in the full open flesh of her monstrous self. She sees him and laughs, wild, baring her teeth like fangs. And in another story, the prince would fight. Or in yet another story, the monster would eat him right up in one gulp. 

But this time, this time, this time the prince looks at his old friend, his monster all this time, and falls in love with the blood in her hair, the knife in her hand, the horrid glint in her eyes. He falls to his knees in front of her and offers himself in any way she will give. He half expects her to slit his throat, and he would gladly let her. A death by her hand sounds the most exquisite pleasure. But that was not to be. Not this night. Instead she hikes up her skirt with one bloody hand and grabs him by the hair with the other, and he falls into her with a sigh of deepest pleasure.

He could have been a hero, if not for love. And oh he loved. He loved her as a tree loves a wildfire, as a drowning man loves the sea, as the sun loves the moon when it subsumes it in it’s shadow. And he never doubted for a minute a monster could love. 

For love she did. She loved him so much that sometimes she wished she could unhinge her jaw and swallow him whole, so he could be forever with her. She loved him so much she wanted to carve her name into his skin so he would forever be claimed by her. He loved him so much she wanted to melt him into bathwater and soak in him until he permeates her skin forever. 

And for a time, they were happy. And for a time, they lived a fairytale all their own. For a time they hunted together, side by side, exalted monster and degraded prince, monster and her lover. There are bodies hidden all around this town, evidence of their favorite date nights. Unmarked graves all over the forest, leftovers from a long night out. 

But alas, no golden moment ever lasts. The monster’s father was a jealous man, was a jealous monster. Jealous of her daughter’s success, jealous of the prince’s love for her. Jealous that anyone else could share this with her. So he took the prince, and then he called the police. But the daughter was a cleverer monster than her father by far. 

The true ending of this tale, no one can tell. This is what is known: the monster’s house burned down that night. Her monster father and half-monster mother, now revealed, were found dead in the ashes. Charred evidence of all the crimes the home harbored were discovered. Some say the father killed the prince, and the beautiful monster killed her parents in a rage, and dragged her lover’s body to the forest. Some say the father killed the daughter, and much the same happened. Some say the daughter killed the prince, that that was always the plan. But, as the story is usually told, in hushed voices by girls all over town, is this: The monster and the prince both got away. Killed their jailers and ran out in the woods, which they could live and hunt in peace and secrecy. The tellers of this version assure that they remain there still, hunting the unaware, but ready to welcome all little monster girls with open arms, before their skins rip open and the deadly thing crawls out. There are many deadly things crawling about Riverdale. Those monsters need their stories too.

**Author's Note:**

> My real goal in writing these song fics is that for every one I post you all get more confused about my musical tastes.


End file.
